


Virtues of the Father

by FairSappho



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Guardians of the Galaxy - All Media Types
Genre: Afterlife, Afterlife Shenanigans, Comic verse stuff blended into MCU stuff, Dont expect regular updates, F/F, F/M, Gen, Im not that kinda gal, Peter adopts a kid, Yondu and Meredith are parenting it up in the afterlife watching Peter, dad!peter, like the shit about the centaurians, some romance may occur
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-06 06:00:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11030109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairSappho/pseuds/FairSappho
Summary: Months after Yondu's death, Peter rescues a Centaurian kid from slavers. Not knowing what else to do with him, and still reeling from the loss of his father figure, Peter decides to raise him with help from the rest of the Guardians.In death, Yondu watches over his kid. So does Meredith.





	1. Peter

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted this story to exist, but don't really think I'm the right person to write it. I hope you like it all the same.
> 
> I'm not good at regular updates as I don't particularly like writing, so please be patient with me!

The kid was blue, and from Peter's -admittedly limited- Terran perspective, he looked the spitting image of Yondu. He could swear up and down that it didn’t matter, that it had nothing to do with why he was considering the hither-to unimaginable, but he’d be lying, and nobody would believe him anyways.

“Wasn’t Yondu the last of his kind?” Asked Rocket blithely, staring down at the shivering kid from where he sat at the controls.

“At least that’s the rumor ‘round the Galaxy.”

Peter was crouched across from the circuitry panel the kid had crawled into, just staring. The kid, for his part, was glaring fearfully at Peter through wet eyes, whistling what had to be some venomous threat in his native tongue.

“Dunno” He cleared his throat. “I've heard it said, though.”

Rocket grunted noncommittally. The door slid opened, revealing Drax holding a pile of blankets.

“Tell the blue-child not to fear, for I have brought blankets with which he may nest!”

Drax spoke at a volume that sent the kid deeper into the panel, clicking and whistling louder in response. Peter was almost concerned the kid’d get himself electrocuted before he could fish him out.

“Damnit Quill, get him to stop that bat-shit whistling noise before I lose my goddamn mind. I’ve got piloting to do.”

“How the fuck do you want me to do that?” He snapped. “This shit isn’t in the translator for some reason, and he don’t seem to fucking have one implanted neither.”

“What does whistling have to do with bat excrement?” Drax wondered aloud.

“I wonder why. Isn’t everyone fitted for one as a child? I was, as was Nebula.”

Peter turned to see Gamora leaning stiffly against the bulkhead, arms crossed protectively over her chest. Peter didn’t blame her; Groot’s current condition aside, children couldn’t have been a common occurrence in her life.

“Not certain tribal communities.” He coughed thickly, feeling almost faint. “Not Earth.”

“Well what the fuck are we gonna do with him?” Rocket asked.

The whistling stopped for a moment, as if the kid knew something important had just been said. Suspicious, red eyes peeked from around the side of the panel. Peter stared back. Nobody said anything. The crew watched as Peter held out his arms to the kid, and watched as he hid himself completely behind the panel again, clicking in outrage.

Nebula scoffed from her corner. Rocket sighed. Drax looked around in confusion, but that was Drax’s default state.

There seemed only one, inescapable conclusion; the Galaxy of the Guardians had just acquired a very young new member.

* * *

 

“Will you raise him as your own, Mr. Peter?” asked Mantis, sitting down beside him with a tray of food “I have brought the little one nourishment, as he is very scared and hungry.”

Food. That was a good idea. Why hadn’t he thought of that? This raising a kid business was going to be a nightmare. Peter was not dad material. _Then again,_ he thought with a stab of pain, _neither was Yondu, really._

“Can you communicate with him, Mantis? Maybe tell the little fucker we’re not trying to hurt him. Or that he’s gonna get his shit electrocuted by whatever’s in that panel.”

He stretched stiffly, and groaned when he felt his joints pop. _How long had he been sitting here?_ Everyone else was sleeping.

He glanced at the chronometer; over two hours. And all that time, the kid had been whistling up a storm, barely peeking his head around the grate long enough for Peter to get a good glimpse at his face. Or condition. The Kree slavers they’d lifted him from were long dead, so Peter couldn’t very well ask them. With a vicious twist of his heart, he wished he’d kept them alive just a little bit longer. Just to ask a few friendly questions. Maybe with a screwdriver or something.

“I can try, Mr. Peter. But it is unlikely that he will allow me to touch him for long enough to do so. The only reason I can feel his emotions now is because he is empathically inclined, and very distressed. I suspect it to be a trait of his species.”

Now that was interesting information, thought Peter.

“Wait, you mean you could feel Yondu’s feelings as well?”

He turned to look at her. She was staring at him with something that resembled sadness or pity, but was not. It took a moment for her to respond, and she seemed to think over her response carefully.

“In the brief interactions that I had with him? Yes.”

Peter turned away, back to the whistling circuitry panel. Did he really want to know? Maybe not. Touching or not, Mantis seemed to have an eerie understanding of his mental state all the same. She cleared her throat and looked down at her hands.

“He was resigned, and a little sad. But most of all, he was proud of you Peter. In his own way, he loved you.”

Peter said nothing for a long time, and kept his eyes on the panel. He felt Mantis get up and leave, and felt the hot sting of tears in his eyes long before the door slid shut behind her. Red eyes peeked around the panel again and met his.

“I know,” he croaked out.

For the first time since Yondu’s death some months prior, he put his head in his hands and cried, muffling his sobs in the crook of his elbow

Peter almost missed the soft clicking noise grow insistent next to him. He looked up in surprise to see the kid, who jerked back slightly, but held his ground. He grabbed Peter’s elbow and looked up at him with big eyes. He whistled sympathetically before clicking again. Peter wished he knew what that meant, but it seemed like a good a time as any to reach next to him and grab the bread off of the tray. He handed it to his small companion, who took it after only a moments hesitation before scooting closer to his side.

Peter watched as his tiny guest scarfed down the food, wondering when his last full meal had been. He sat with the suspicious glances made his way every couple of moments, and the occasional aggravated whistle, and even the ache that still hadn’t quite left his chest after all these months.

After his meal, the kid took the blankets Peter handed him without much fuss and crawled back into the panel to make his little nest. Peter took the liberty of cutting off the electricity to that particular console.

It was a start.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yondu meets Meredith. Revelations abound and emotions run wild.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating because I've started getting comments on this again and I'm a piece of shit who never updates anything she starts. May I live to finish this fucking thing, because at this rate it'll never get done.

Yondu Udonta regained consciousness suddenly and all at once, sprawled star-fish style hanging off an old, beaten-up red couch. He noted with unnatural calmness that he was NOT, in fact, suffocating to death in the void of space, but was instead in what appeared to be an exotic-looking living room. It seemed terribly antiquated, with a near complete lack of technology. White, plastered walls covered all sides but one, which was floral-printed and led out into a hallway. A small wooden table all but filled the cluttered kitchen area, while the living room area was almost too empty. The only luxury save the couch and a small coffee table, seemed to be an old predecessor to a vid-screen with two antennae sticking out of it. On closer look, it was playing a low-res, grainy vid of what seemed to be a Terran man sobbing.

Terran. Human. Earth. Peter.

He jolted up suddenly, as if electrocuted.

“Shit. Shit-shit-shit, damn it, Peter-“

Scrambling to his feet, he looked around for any sign of his son.

“Peter? Where are you? Answer me, boy or I swear I’ll-“

“He’s not here, sweetie. Not that I’m sure I’d tell you if he was. I’ve still got a bone or two to pick with you, if you don’t mind.”

Yondu turned from where he was standing to see a young blonde Terran woman leaning against the floral doorframe. Unnerved, he drew his shoulders back and raised himself up to his full height, which was admittedly not as threatening as he’d like. The woman appeared unimpressed, not even blinking as he advanced towards her.

“Where are we? Where’s Peter? If you’ve hurt him, I swear to god lady-“

“Slow your roll, honeybun.”

She interrupted him, holding a manicured hand up lazily to silence him. She was uncomfortably beautiful, with a piercing gaze and eyes bluer than his skin. He glared at her, fuming in expectant silence while she looked him over. He couldn’t quite place it, but something was unnervingly familiar about her. He was wearing the same thing he had been wearing in that final battle with Ego, but still, he felt almost naked under her gaze. After moments of uncomfortable silence, she sighed, pulling her hand through her hair in an exasperated motion as she leaned further into the door frame.

“Lord almighty, if you’d shown this much concern for his well-being when you were raising him, I might not be so mad at you.”

Feeling his hackles rise, he fought the urge to yell at her again, only to pause.

Yondu’s empathic abilities weren’t especially powerful, but they existed. Along with low-level empathy, Centaurians had a strong, spiritual connection with nature, and were able to sense even the smallest shifts in their surroundings. These were not skills that Yondu had the opportunity to cultivate, having been sold to Kree slavers as a young child, and then spending nearly the rest of his life aboard a Ravager ship in the void of space. He was not particularly adept at sensing minute details of his surroundings or peering into others souls; and yet, standing next to this tiny Terran, his powers told him two, undeniable things:

One: the woman before him was both furious and yet also grateful towards him. She was very glad to see him, and also extremely unhappy to be faced with him.

Two: contrary to all common sense, it would appear that he HAD no surroundings. Everything seemed preternaturally quiet, and an awful, deathly stillness filled the room around him, save the furious shoe-tapping of the woman in front of him. With a sinking feeling, he realized he could not hear the woman breathing. Worse, he could not hear himself breathing. He had a terrible, awful suspicion. Breathing deeply through his nose, Yondu stared the woman in the eyes.

“I’m dead, ain’t I?”

Her lips curled into a smile, and she grinned at him playfully as she unfurled herself and pushed away from the door frame.

“Afraid so, sugar.”

That explained a lot, and somehow, hearing it confirmed was almost a relief. He nodded absentmindedly, gazing around the room. Still, something didn’t add up, and he was too shell-shocked and dazed to beat around the bush.

“I see,” Yondu started carefully after a moment. He turned back to her. “Well, not to be rude, darling, cause ain’t you a pretty picture, but why am I here, exactly? Have we met before? You seem awfully familiar, and you seem to know Pete-”

He stopped himself suddenly. Oh no. It couldn’t be. The eyes. The soft curl to her hair. The way she held herself: proud and confident and insecure all at once. The woman crossed her arms and stalked slowly closer to him, peering fearlessly into his red eyes as he instinctively backed away. She had the soft-looking face of an angel, but the eyes of a soldier, all steel and hard edges.

“Yes, I do know Peter. Peter is my son. The son you stole away on your pretty little ship so you could sacrifice him to his no-good, lying piece-of-shit daddy.”

Her lips curled into a snarl and she screamed suddenly, breaking pursuit across the small apartment to punch the wall. Startled, Yondu backed into the arm of the couch and fell, sprawling on top of it.

His mother. This woman was Peter’s mother. This was the Meredith Quill he had spent late nights listening to Peter sob about in his sleep. And she had apparently been watching from beyond the grave, somehow. He was really, so very fucked.

At least he was when she stopped punching the wall long enough to start punching him. He noted with some alarm that her hand was beginning to bleed and leave streaks of blood against the white plaster.

“Hey, shit, wait a second. Cut that shit out.”

He leapt from the couch to grab her arm, before she could hit the wall again.

“Fuckin- Just STOP, you’re gonna break your fuckin’ hand.”

She turned viciously in his grasp, and shot out her other hand to strike him against the jaw.

“Damn it,” he hissed, grabbing her other arm too.

Her screams morphed slowly into sobs.

“It-It’ll just” she wheezed between sobs, “It’ll just heal again as- as soon as it does. It always- always does.”

“Calm down, hey, just calm the fuck down for a second, will ya!”

Yondu looked Meredith in the eyes, and he saw all that he had taken from her. All that he had -unwittingly- helped take. Not just her son as he had thought, but also her life as well. He wondered briefly between her sobs if being confronted with the reality of what he had done constituted Hell, some form of eternal punishment. He thought that if it did, then he definitely deserved it and far, far worse.

“I’m sorry. Hey, hey, look at me.”

He pulled her forearms until she was facing him and looked into her tired, angry eyes. She stared back defiantly through her tears. Slowly, something changed in her expression. Shock turned to curiosity turned to the beginnings of empathy. He felt her feelings change mutedly underneath her skin and humiliated, he realized far too late that he was crying as well.

“I’m sorry. I know I did you wrong. I know I did him wrong but you gotta believe me, I loved him. He was my son too and I loved him. I’m so sorry.”

He released her arm and tried to turn away, but she grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him to face her again. Her slender, fair hand reached up to brush the tears from his cheek and then pulled him to her in a fierce embrace. The whiplash of emotions he felt from her was almost too much to bear, and he felt an overwhelming tiredness take him. Too exhausted to do anything else, he held her back.

“Hey, I know.” She murmured in his ear, still sounding tearful. “I’m sorry too, I know. You saved him. I may hate you for taking him from me but you still saved him. Thank you.”

“I knew what Ego was doin’. I almost brought him Peter, but I just couldn’t. And I took him from his mama. You both have a right to hate me.”

Meredith pulled back enough to look at him, a focused yet pained sort of look on her face. The crying had for the moment stolen her youthful glow, and he found himself entranced by her red, swollen eyes. Even after a full meltdown, she was beautiful. He thought he could see what had charmed Ego so much, and then was immediately appalled by his own thoughts.

“Well, if we’re both being fair, I was already dead meat, sugar.”

She grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him towards the couch. Sitting down next to him, she sighed and put her face in her hands, rubbing her eyes tiredly.

“And for the record, Peter doesn’t hate you.”

Yondu snorted. “Uh, yeah, pretty sure he does. I ruined his fuckin’ life, threatened to eat him and shit.”

Meredith smiled almost conspiratorially at that.

“Well, you WERE just joking.”

As Yondu tried to keep up with this capricious woman’s fleeting moods, she continued.

“And I know for a fact he doesn’t. I’d bet good money. Boy’s too sweet for his own good, and you were the only father he’d ever known.”

Yondu looked at her skeptically.

“Yeah? And how would you know? You a ghost on my ship or some shit? You got magic powers that tell you what he’s thinking and feeling? Or is this some sort of ‘mother’s intuition’ type bullshit?”

Meredith rolled her eyes, smiling.

“No, I don’t have magic powers. I have a T.V.”

“A T.V.?”

Meredith reached across him to take a small device off the table, and angled it at the antique vid screen. She pushed a button and the sound of a man quietly weeping suddenly filled the room. She pushed another one and the screen got brighter, bright enough to see the non-descript sobbing Terran man become Peter, his red, tear-stained face was pressed against his bedsheets. It was hard to see, but in his hands was clutched one of Yondu’s arrows. Yondu shot up, diving for the T.V. to get a closer look.

“Peter!”

“It’s a shame I died when I did. Do you know the kind of hi-resolution televisions they have nowadays? And I’m stuck with this shitty old thing. I’d kill for an upgrade.” Meredith continued blithely, as if unaware of Yondu’s sudden crisis.

“Shit, Peter, don’t fuckin’ cry, I’m right here. Peter!”

“He can’t see you, honey.”

Yondu ignored her, eyes trained on Peter’s prone, sobbing form. He heard her get up and come around the coffee table to kneel next to him.

“There’s gotta be something we can do.” He muttered desperately, not looking at her.

“There really isn’t. Believe me, I’ve tried.” Beneath her blasé tone, Yondu could hear some of the anger and sadness he now felt.

“What do we do now?” he asked hoarsely.

She was quiet for a long moment. Finally, she replied. “Now? Hmm, well, let’s see. I’ve got cards, you ever played poker?”

Yondu turned to her incredulously. She took the opportunity to turn the T.V. off.

“Listen honey, there’s nothing more you can do for him. He bounced back after my death, and he’ll bounce back after yours. You just need to give him time. The best you can do now is watch, and wait.”

She stopped for a moment. “But let’s not watch right now. I’ve been waiting for years to talk to the man who raised my child. And trust me, I’ve got a lot to say.”

Yondu cringed. Before he could apologize again, Meredith’s gaze softened, and she continued.

“Just one thing for now. Just one, I promise. Aren’t you proud of him? Isn’t he everything you hoped he would be?” she asked.

He grinned at her despite himself, and shrugged. “Of course. Fuck, of course I am. He was the best of me. He’s gonna be great.”

She grinned back. “Yeah, he really is. Now come on, I wasn’t kidding about the poker.”


End file.
